


The Shape Of Things (To Come)

by crowsnest



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Disability, F/M, Graphic Description, Hurt, Multi, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowsnest/pseuds/crowsnest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything with Titan goes terribly wrong, four people are left with the question of 'what comes next', and 'where do we go from here'. None of the answers are easy, and nobody walks away unscathed. </p><p>A semi-authorized sequel to the fantastic "Put 'Em Up (Show Me What You've Got)" by Colonel Bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Put 'Em Up (Show Me What You've Got)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/9309) by Colonel Bastard. 



The hospital had rules. Some people were above those rules, and Metro Man counted himself as one of those people. He was a hero. He was the city's savior. Nobody, _nobody_ told him that he could not sit in an observation theater and watch as a team of surgeons struggled to save a life. Especially not a life he'd failed to protect.

Oh, he could make excuses about it, and would. He'd find the ways to lie about where he was and why he didn't come in time. About why there was a small blue man struggling for every breath. Titan had really gone over him; the flail chest was the worst of it: there was at least seared wound from a laser, his ankle had been broken, he'd been working with broken fingers in his right hand, and God knows what else they'd listed off when they brought him in and started cutting him out of his clothes.

That'd upset him later. Megamind was so touchy about his clothes. About being seen; Metro Man knew it wasn't his huge head that made him feel alien, it was his slender build, his lack of bulk. He added mass with collars and mantles and capes, and they'd just-- cut them away with steel shears. So much for those custom, baby seal leather boots. They were scraps, now. Metro Man could see one pale foot as the doctors moved about him, barking instructions and information to each other like a pack of well trained dogs.

He could hear something else, too. Soft flip-flaps, in the hall. Bare feet in slippers.

Roxanne Ritchi, breaking all the rules like he knew she would, pushed open the doors to the observation room and stopped dead, looking up at him in shock. Christ, she looked like a piece of meat that a dog had gotten a hold of-- her rosebud lips had gone jagged with stitches. Tight, neat sutures traced the curve of the blackened swelling beneath her right eye, tracing the plane of a cheek he had once brushed tears from, in a time and space that seemed like another life, another world.

For a moment, it looked like neither knew what to say. They stared at each other with increasing discomfort. He certainly didn't know how to begin; did he apologize? (He'd never really had to do that before.) Did he comfort her? (Did she need comforting, beyond the obvious?) Did he ask her just what in the name of God what she doing with Megamind, anyway? (He was afraid of the answer.)

“You have _some nerve,_ ” she finally started. Whatever the Demoralize ray had done to save her life, it was gone now. The fight was there in bloodshot blue eyes.

“Roxy, please,” he started. He'd never had to defend himself before, not really. Not against someone who mattered. “I did what I could.”

“No, you son of a bitch, you didn't. You didn't at all.” Roxanne advanced on him, like an angry ant before a God, but wholly unafraid. “You could have stopped this all from happening! But no, you had to sit in your lair and play guitar.” She gulped down air, swallowing a sob down hard. “You're not even _any good._ ”

It was a ludicrous thing to bring up; they both know it. Apparently she needed him to hurt any way she could right now, and that was the only weapon she had left. He couldn't blame her.

“I'd get better in time,” he said, refusing to flinch.

“Great,” she snapped, before she jerked her head toward the surgery. “Will he?”

For once, he did not have a snappy reply. It hit harder than his mimic; this knowledge that she held him responsible. He hadn't meant for it to go this far. Oh, he'd played his nemesis like a harp from hell as the phrase went; he'd wound him up in a way he'd know would have had the effect. Megamind wanted what he had so badly, he could have it. He'd have to earn it, but he could have it all the screaming fans and the demands and the lack of anything remotely resembling a life.

What Megamind couldn't have was Metro Man's birthright. He had that big brain, alright, and he was tougher than the average earthling, but he'd gone into that fight and put his life on the line in a way that Metro Man would never have to. He had more to risk. More to lose. Metro Man had to respect that, and in the same moment, realize that he'd done him a wrong.

The silence stretched into minutes; the stare down was off, and for the first time, Metro Man blinked first. Neither of them broke it-- it was chaos from below that suddenly had them both looking away from the others lack of words. Machines screamed below, people rushed and hurried to and fro-- _flatline, flatline, get the crash cart!_

“I hope it was worth it,” she said, and her tone could have chilled the surface of Pluto. “Because if he dies, I am telling everyone everything I know. All of those secrets that I've kept for you. All of the things you've told me. But most importantly I'm going to tell everyone that you let this all happen. That you put yourself above the welfare of the city. That you were _selfish._ ”

“That I was human?”

She fought fiercely, but couldn't stop the sob that erupted after those four words. When he reached out to her, she fled. He wondered if this is how Megamind felt, watching her retreat from a touch she had once leaned into for support, for safety. What, he wondered, was he supposed to learn from losing her?

+++

He didn't die. This alone was cause for elation, though Roxanne knew better than to be too excited; he was still in critical condition and access to him was being limited. Despite all her skills and being something of a celebrity in Metro City, she was denied access to the recovery room they put Megamind in with two simple words: _family only._

So she went to find the one person who could count as family. Thankfully, nobody had thought to come to get the little fish before her. The city was still a mess, and short of the National Guard's arrival, they'd never have enough people to maintain cordoning off of--well, anywhere.

So she put on her big girl britches, popped a couple of the pain pills that explicitly said not to drive after taking, and continued her rule-breaking pattern.

Megamind would be so proud of me, being so bad, she thought. So long as I don't turn myself into a splatter on the pavement.

But she managed. She went home for the necessary supplies, grateful that her apartment was in a part of the city that still had power; getting up to the penthouse condo would have been terrible, and she didn't want to have to resort to looting to get what she needed: a proper change of clothes, a bucket, and some bottled water. Rest could come later; for now, she had a plan.

She loaded up the van and headed the fight of the battle. The dust had settled, and the place was empty. Even if she hadn't known the city like the back of her hand, she would have known they were getting close to the epicenter of the battle of the supermen; Megamind's brainbots had been blown for miles, but their broken bodies were thickest about the ruins of Metro Tower, not far from the fountain.

She saw the suit before she saw Minion; he was 'treading water', the tips of his dimly lit bulbs just above the water line. Still, he must've heard her coming, because he abruptly moved, coming up to peer out of the water, brown eyes lighting up with hope and a touch of fear.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” Minion said as he spied her from where he swam in irritable circles. “I knew someone would remember me! Is he alright? Metro Man took off so quickly, and I knew something had gone wrong! He wasn't going in the direction of the prison.”

“I don't know for sure. They won't let me into his room. I'm not family,” Roxanne said, as she set the bucket down. “You want to blow this popsicle stand and go find out?”

If he hadn't already been in the water, Roxanne would have sworn that his eyes brimmed with unshed tears; gratitude or grief, she couldn't be sure.

“You have no idea!”

She leaned over and let her hands enter the water; he swam right into her grip. She tried to be careful with his soft body; he felt so delicate. If she gripped too tightly, it was like she could crush him in her hands; what Titan Hal, what Hal had done, (there was no need to give him a stupid codename now, he was, as far as she knew, depowered had done to Megamind.)

The thought made her show all the more care for the fish, and she moved him from fountain to bucket with the gentlest of movements.

“What are we going to do?”

“I could take you back in the bucket,” Roxanne said. “But if I take you like this, there's always the chance they'll just take you from me.” For his own protection, or some other nonsense. “You're not exactly in top form.”

“The suit is shot,” he said, fins working wearily in the water. The gorilla suit wasn't going to be mobile any time soon, and they both knew it. “But if we go to the lair, we can get one of the backups! It'll take time, but it's our best shot!”

“Right,” said Roxanne. “Let's get you buckled in.”

She loaded his bucket in the front seat, and tried to secure it as best she could with the seat belt. Even the van had seen better days; Titan – _Hal_ – hadn't bothered to open the back doors to the van like a normal person; no, the brute had ripped them off in his hurry to get to the cameras. The rest would be simple enough; she knew the way to the lair, and the van still had enough gas to get out to that end of the city and back if it needed to.

They lapsed into silence as she eased through the still empty streets. The evacuation of the city had taken its toll, but it gave them plenty of room to maneuver now. However, once they reached the overpass, they had to take alternate routes. She imagined people had started abandoning their cars when they saw Metro Tower fall.

“W-why did you come back?” Minion asked.

“What?” Roxanne glanced from the road to Minion briefly, before she put her eyes on the asphalt ahead. “I couldn't just leave you there.”

“No. I mean. With Titan. Why'd you come out there? Did you really think you could stop him?”

Roxanne's lips pressed into a thin line. Pain lanced through her cheek, as the expression tugged all the stitches in her face, so it was a short-lived gesture.

“Somebody had to stand up against him,” she said, trying to keep the tension from her voice. “Somebody had to-- not give up. Metro Man wouldn't come out of his lair, Megamind went home, and that left me. I was the only one in this whole mess that-- couldn't just turn my back on my city.”

Minion didn't answer her immediately, quiet in the bucket as the mile markers passed by in the window. He didn't speak for a time.

“I think,” Minion said after the silence had stretched taut, “that you were very brave, Miss Ritchi. You always have been.” There was a heavy pause there, as if the fish weighed how to speak next. When he did, his voice was low. “Please, never be that brave again.”

She laughed, without humor, and kept driving. She knew as well as he did that Minion didn't ask for her sake; he asked for Megamind's. She was not sure what happened between them, but something had happened. It seemed improper to ask, to intrude between the pairs bond, and so she did not. Whatever the reason, Minion had put his life on the line to save hers, and she couldn't dishonor that by asking about their plans and how they'd gone wrong.

Pulling up to the increasingly familiar power plant that housed the lair, Roxanne was happy to see it had been spared all destruction due to its remote location. She got out, unbuckled Minion, and hauled him through the secret entrance.

The lair was eerily quiet. Some of the surviving brainbots had returned to roost, but none of them came after her. A last minute change in programming due to the rescue, perhaps? Roxanne couldn't be sure. Maybe they were harmless when Megamind or Minion wasn't actively directing them.

“Where do I go from here?” she asked, her voice echoing in the expansive space, making her seem all the smaller in it.

“Well, start by going further back, turn left at the curtain, further, further--” Minion guided her back toward what looked like storage; pieces of broken down death traps, being stripped and repurposed for new and more exciting diabolical schemes.

“Ah, there it is. Bit stripped, but it'll do in a pinch. Here, there are power cells over on that shelf,” Minion directed from his bucket, and Roxanne moved to obey him. A power cell here, a remote there, a hose hanging on the wall: all were needed to get the suit powered, tank filled, and Minion's nerve remote re-attuned to its chassis.

The old body wasn't as advanced as the previous one; it still leaned forward on heavy forelimbs like a true ape, though the hands seemed functional enough. Its fake fur was the deep blue of the night sky at at twilight instead of eggplant purple and covered more of the body, though it had gone patchy in places. She hadn't seen it in years; Minion had retired it years ago in favor of the body he had now not long before the regular ritual of her kidnapping began.

“There,” Minion said, “I can feel it! It's online, and ready to go!” The suit abruptly lurched to life; it padded to Minion's bucket on all fours, one massive hand plucking Minion's true body from the water and placing it in the top of the dome. He flexed his arms, then his legs-- before rearing back, and sweeping Roxanne into a tight hug against a chest lined with musty faux fur and pleather.

“Just seeing if the arms work,” he said. It was a good enough lie for the both of them.

 

+++

 

Megamind had once told him a joke about the eight hundred pound gorilla, and how it could do anything it wanted. Minion had chuckled then, it had been funny. Him, the eight hundred pound gorilla? Really, he wouldn't hurt a fly and Megamind knew it. His immense robot body was not to grant an advantage in combat but instead to serve to distract anyone from the strange, soft fish that served as it's guidance system and life.

Right now, however, he found himself being the eight hundred pound gorilla, complete with grinding servos and creaking gears. This body was noisy, inefficient, but the look of terror that passed over the faces of the people who moved swiftly out of his way as he came clomping down the hall on all fours toward the recovery room was priceless. Megamind would have thrilled at the idea of Minion being so outright bad, flaunting his strength so flagrantly.

Megamind, however, was in a room at the far end of the hall, and Minion had not yet reached him. But he was the irresistible force drawn, and there was no immovable object in sight.

“That's his room,” Roxanne said, and he could hear the change in her voice; it sounded a little bit like hope. It buoyed his own. He didn't know what to make of her feelings for his master, but neither did he question that she wanted to make sure he was alright. If it was guilt and not love, so be it. Either way, Megamind was in that hospital bed because of her, as far as Minion was concerned it was more than right that she go to his side and maybe even ask his forgiveness.

Twenty feet. Ten feet. Clank, clank, went his limbs as they hit the floor. The door was there- he let Roxanne open it, with her small hand, and he ducked his head and went inside. The door shut behind them on a nurse's protest of _you can't go in there!_

When he stopped, just inside the doorway, he realized perhaps this was like another moral tale; Pandora's box. Once opened, nothing can go back. Once the knowledge of a thing was attained, it was never to be truly unknown again.

Minion would never forget the cost of Titan's defeat. It was there, wrapped around Megamind's frail body like a cage. Several machines were attached to the alien in the bed via tubes and wires. Fluids dripped and two respirators worked to keep lungs at proper pressure, each set at a different rate. His face mostly lost under tape and the plastic bulk of his intubation, Megamind was nearly as white as the sheets he lay on. Over his ribcage sat the metal frame of a fixator, holding his bones in place to keep them from moving out of place, even with his shallow, weak breathing. His dignity was barely preserved by a sheet from the waist down. Bruises and contusions lined every bit of visible flesh; what wasn't pale was purpled or black.

Roxanne swayed on her feet next to him; Minion reached out, steadied her-- thankful that the suit didn't buck and wobble at his own emotional response. He nudged her forward, once-- and came around the other side of Megamind's bed.

“What do we do?” he asked. No one had ever told him what could have happened if he had in fact failed in his duty to look after his master. No one had told him that it could, in fact, be this bad. That he could sit and watch the only reason he had for living slowly die.

Roxanne, her eyes half lidded and heavy with emotion, looked at his master. He watched her carefully move-- dropping her hands, slowly and carefully bringing Megamind's palm into her own, cradling it there like she was afraid that her tentative touch might break him further.

“Wait and pray,” she answered, not looking up. “That's all we can do. Wait and pray.”


	2. Waking Up In Slow Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in slow motion; Metro Man, Roxanne and Minion contemplate the future.

Lying was simple once you got the hang of it. He'd made his first lie a spectacular thing to follow up; faking the death of a beloved superhero was a hell of a start. After that it was simply a matter of feeding off their hope and giving them the lines they wanted to hear.

Metro Man protected Megamind. He owed him that much. The scrutiny of the city, abruptly turned on their relationship, was an uncomfortable one but if he wanted to make it out of this with even a shred of his reputation unmarred, he'd have to learn to lie, and he'd have to protect the supervillain. So he did.

He explained that Megamind had not killed him, but that the story of 'what really happened' would have to wait until Megamind was able to help tell it. In the meantime, he asked for people to focus on the important thing: the recovery of a City that now had two heroes, one of whom still had not pulled one blue foot out of the grave yet. Without Roxanne there to lead the charge with the hard questions, the news teams didn't find their fangs, and for now, the inevitable lies he would have to tell were delayed. They were satisfied for now, and rebuilding really did take precedence over superhero metadrama.

The guilt, however, kept him up at night. He'd never lost sleep before. Not like this. Never like this. He couldn't tell all those faces, the benighted and beleaguered citizens of Metro City, that he had left them. Not when they looked at him, so beaten and weary. There was less awe in their faces now when he touched down among the workers, just confusion and ache as the City began to rise again.

So when his new-found personal demons reared their heads, he went to the hospital. Nine times out of ten, Roxanne was there. Minion never left, but he did not begrudge the man his time and space. So when Roxanne wasn't there to see him and Minion gave him a moment ('Got to refresh my water', he’d say), he was left with Megamind and the noise of the human throng, the machines that kept the man alive, and the people who kept them running.

The first time he said nothing. Did nothing. Just looked at him - frail and small and still - before he returned to the fray to do some heavy lifting. The second time, he dared to touch a hand, turning it over in his own. Those hands had built some amazing things. The right was wrapped to allow broken bones to mend, but the left? With the left you could touch cool flesh and feel the fluttery pulse in a narrow wrist. He kept his fingers on that point, feeling Megamind's heart beat. He wrangled up some looters after that.

The third time he found himself with a moment, while the fish slept and the sun was down, in which he finally found his voice. It was small against the hiss of respirators and the beeps and pings of countless life-preserving machines.

“I'm sorry,” he said, and it sounded like nothing he'd never said before. He could not recognize his own voice, though he knew those were his words, coming past his lips. “I really am. I let you down. I let them all down. I was just so... tired, Megamind. Maybe you can't understand, maybe that doesn't make it any less selfish, but I was so ready for it to be over.”

“Too bad. We’re really good at not getting what we want. I suppose this is your turn.” Minion was not, apparently, as asleep as Metro Man had hoped. The fish continued as he settled himself in the domed head of his suit again, shaking off the last vestiges of slumber to frown at the hero beside his master's bed. “Though it's very big of you to apologize. It’s a step in the right direction. I mean, he only managed it a few days before you did. But he always was a bit quicker on the uptake than most give him credit for.” 

“I'm-- sorry. I didn't realize you were awake.”

“The vibrations-- all the machines.” Minion waved one arm. “It’s like the tank's a noise generator. Hard to sleep.” 

Metro Man nodded once as he turned to face Minion. This was, to say the least, a strange position he found himself in, somehow held accountable by Megamind’s assistant. 

“We've never really spoken, have we?” The fish asked, putting on the most strained of smiles for Metro Man. “Well, I'm Minion. That’s my master, Megamind. And you're Metro Man. And none of us belong here, but here we are anyway. We didn't ask for this, but we're making do with what we have. At least, some of us are.” 

Minion's body creaked as it rose, and he lumbered over to the bedside. They were a strange pair; a hulking robot and a hulking man, both of them feeling quite useless in the face of something neither could fix.

“Have you heard anything?” Metro Man asked.

“Was going to ask you that; you're the one with the super hearing. I don't know if they-- tell me everything,” Minion replied. “He’s not out of the woods yet. Won't be until he can breathe on his own. They said-- they said he should start by tomorrow. If we're lucky.”

Metro Man paused, and then slowly tugged one glove off, and then another, laying them at the very edge of the bed, before he took Megamind's hands within his own again.

It earned him quite the reaction: Minion flared his fins and his underbite jutted, but he did not reach out to reclaim his master from the grip. The body he was in creaked and groaned as conflicting signals were sent from the fish's brain to the rest of the machinery, telling it at once to act and to be still.

“If I told you I had every bit of faith that he's going to make it,” Metro Man asked. “Without having to ask doctors or nurses, would you believe me?”

“I really want to,” Minion said, his voice small in the bubbling dome. “I do. But I know, I know that part of him might die just to spite you, if you said such a thing. Maybe with a final cackle, like 'Where is your faith now, Metro Mahn!' for good measure. Mwah-ha-ha!”

Laughter broke the tension, and it snapped them back to the here and now so hard they both looked up at one another, sharp and confused at the sudden lack of animosity and resentment. Then Metro Man was laughing, too, softly, his shoulders shaking as he gripped Megamind's hand a little tighter, and Minion was laughing with him.

The alternative was sobbing, after all, and neither was prepared to be so vulnerable with the other. Neither could allow that weakness. It'd be blood in the water, and even if there was nothing to gain from pressing his advantage with Minion, Metro Man knew he'd been weak enough to do it in the past. He could do it again.

Breathless, he reached up and wiped tears from his eyes, and Minion settled lightly against the side of the dome. They both sighed, and with that, their burdens were a little lighter. Not gone, but lighter.

“Did Roxanne go home to rest, finally?” Metro Man asked.

“Yeah. I told her I'd alert her to any changes,” Minion said, and Metro Man knew he would.

“I should leave you to it then.”

Minion watched him gather up his gloves, but didn't speak until he had one back on.

“You could stay. It'd mean a lot to him if you did.” Minion’s resolve wavered a little, his snaggle-toothed mouth twisting into a moue of uncertainty. “I think… I think you owe him that much, to sit a night with him. It's the least you could do.”

Metro Man looked at his glove, again, before he pulled the other one on. Stay the night. Keep vigil. Yes, he supposed, he could do that. He pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed and sat himself down. 

“Least I can do for the guy, right?” he said.

“Right,” Minion said, “the very least.”

 

***

 

Minion woke to the vibrations of someone tapping on the dome. Didn’t people learn not to tap on the glass when they were kids? It was irritating. But it was enough to wake him up – and he came out of the dark central body of the suit from his slumber and blinked his bleary eyes.

It was Metro Man; he was smiling and that, Minion knew, must mean something.

“Doctors are here,” he said, gesturing to the nice men in white coats. “They said he’s able to breathe on his own. I’m going to go get Roxanne, get her here in two shakes. Hopefully when the intubation is out and his morphine level is decreased, he'll wake up in his own time."

Minion lumbered up to his feet, already shifting with new excitement. This was fantastic news! This was wonderful!

"Yes, yes, do that!" Minion said, as he approached the doctors. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The doctors, all with easy smiles and gentle demeanor, assured him that it'd be very simple. They'd pull the tube, keep him on oxygen and he'd wake in his own time. His brain activity read as normal for a patient as heavily sedated as Megamind was. Comparing information that the prison had gathered over the years and Minion had supplemented, it seemed Megamind was going to be in the clear. He wasn't in a coma, so he'd wake up on his own, when his body was good and ready to return to consciousness.

"I should be visible," Minion replied, shifting his weight from knuckle to knuckle as his fins flipped irritably. "Otherwise he might be confused or scared."

They'd seen enough human horror movies to know what an alien in a hospital bed with a bunch of wires and tubes connected to him could mean; it was something that was the stuff of nightmares for both of them. Minion was certain that if Megamind could see him when he came around, he'd be much calmer about the whole thing.

Metro Man clapped him on the shoulder, and zipped out -- the window and its screen removed in an eyeblink before the man had shot out of the window, cape rustling behind him.

Slowly, the apparatus came down; they removed the external fixator from his ribs, explaining how the internal devices, unseen, would hold his body together as it finished healing. The titanium was bio-compatible for humans and, so far, Megamind's body hadn't rejected it. Time would tell as he recovered, but for now the prognosis was positive.

Minion had to admit Megamind’s color was better, and while the bruises were ugly, they'd get worse before they got better. Hope fluttered in his heart for the first time since he'd been tossed in that damned fountain, and he tried to think of what to say when he woke.

If he had a throat, Minion was fairly sure his heart would have been in it.

 

***

When Roxanne roused, every inch of her hurt. She knew it was going to be like that; Titan--Hal, she kept correcting herself--had really smacked her around, and he hadn't been thinking about holding back his immense strength.

Staggering into the bathroom, she stripped out of her clothes; she'd been so tired, she had fallen asleep dressed as she had been when she went to get Minion. She grabbed yesterday's towels, threw them over the lip of the tub, and then went to the sink.

She had no idea who that person was looking back at her from the mirror was. She traced the edges of the sutures tracing a crescent on her cheekbone, before she circled the outline of the half-mask of bruises that blacked both eyes and had purpled up her cheek. It was like some horrible, Phantom of the Opera mask -- this wasn't Roxanne Ritchi, this was some other person's face she was wearing.

It was the tear in her lip that hurt the most. Not only did it affect every expression she made and flavor her every sound with pain, it would probably leave a scar. Would she end up with some Sylvester Stallone-esque tug to her lip from now on? Would they let this mockery of her carefully coiffed femininity appear on camera ever again? Or would they find someone younger, prettier? Some lean, fresh meat, instead of a butcher shop reject?

She didn't cry. She was too tired, too worn to the bone. Sobs wouldn't come; her eyes got a little damp, and her shoulders shook, but all she could do was take stock of the other bruises and marks. There was nothing else she could do right now, and Roxanne had never been one to linger on the things she could not fix or change.

She got in the shower and let the hot spray ease her sore muscles. She stayed under the water until it started to cool.

Toweled off, in a cozy terry cloth robe and fluffy pink slippers, she left her bathroom. She needed coffee and her painkillers. She didn't, however, expect to smell toast and coffee already. She headed quickly down the short hall and found Metro Man there, buttering toast.

"The hell do you think you're doing?"

"Making you breakfast," he replied, setting buttered toast on a plate before her. "Or what passes for it. Made you coffee, too."

Fury bubbled up, but the only noise she could make was a frustrated growl.

"Get out!" she snapped, holding her robe closed with one hand, waving the other the way she might shoo an enormous white tom cat that had taken up residence in her kitchen. "You don't get to do this! You don't get to sweep and pretend to save the day. You don't get to save the day anymore. You gave up the hero gig, remember, Music Man?"

"I've been nothing but reminded for the last twenty-four hours, yes," he said, filling up the coffee cup. "Take your medication. We've got places to be."

"Do you need to use your super hearing? Do I need to speak in sub-sonic frequencies? _Out!_ "

They were back to being the immovable object and the unstoppable force. She looked up into his perfect, impassive face, spitting and hissing at him. He reached for her, but she jerked away, eyes narrowing. His hand hovered empty in the air for a moment, but he didn’t try to reach for her again.

"They're going to take him off the respirator. Minion wants you to be there," he said, enunciating each word very carefully. "City traffic is a mess. I'm just here to play taxi, Roxanne. No more, no less."

She deflated, oblivious to the way his hand moved, tracing the cut on her cheek with infinite gentleness. No, she only knew that her heart lurched in her chest. If they were taking him off the respirators, that meant one of two things: he was going to live, or they were letting him die naturally. 

"Is it because he's going to wake up-- or because he won't?" she asks, voice sounding very small, despite the shouting she had just done.

"They expect him to breathe on his own and wake up before the end of the day," Metro Man reassured her. "Now eat your toast, drink your coffee, and get dressed. You don't want to miss that, do you?"

Wordlessly, she reached for the plate of toast and sat down at her breakfast nook to eat. Her heart thudded in her chest as a thousand questions raced through her mind. What should she say? What should she do? All she'd done in the last two days had been wait and pray...

Now, would those prayers be answered? Would he be alright? Would they forgive each other?

She didn't know-- the future had so thoroughly derailed from anything like a recognizable course over the last forty-eight hours that Roxanne had no idea what to expect. Normally, she'd be excited for a break in the doldrums of the kidnapping gig. But now, she was left wondering and worrying.

It was a change, all right, but perhaps not the one she'd been hoping for.


	3. Eye Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many important conversations happen.

Consciousness returned in inches. He gained awareness here, sensation there. Not all of it was good, and it was a slow process. First came the weight of his body; it felt leaden and stiff, and he did not try large movements. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Then his limbs. They shifted with more ease, but there was pain that shot through his muscles, as if he had not moved in some time and his body told him no, not yet. Not yet.

He came down to the extremities next; the toes of one foot wiggled, but the other found resistance to movement. He found this repeated with his the fingers. Only one hand stirred, but his right did not. Something confined parts of him, then. 

He stayed still, let his breathing remain even, and went into his own head. Returning to consciousness was like waking up in the basement of his mind and struggling to get to the front door. Everything was cluttered and closed, musty and unmoved. He had to brush aside the cobwebs that clouded his senses. 

Megamind walked the halls of his mind and took stock. He reached for his immediate memories, but the pain that came with some of them left him raw and weak. He shoved them violently back to the recesses of his mind. No, he would would have look somewhere else for the way out of his own head.

What had happened? A flash of red - a color so often associated with pain held even more power now: _Titan_ had happened. The great, ginger gorilla had squandered all his gifts and turned to evil. All that power, and he’d just wasted it on selfishness. Right. Well. Note to self: power corrupts and all that. Idiom proven true in this situation. He’d never do _that_ again.

With the knowledge of Titan’s corruption another piece fell into place: Titan had nearly cost him everything. He’d turned evil, then wreaked havoc on the city that had never given him the respect he felt he had been due even before he had become its savior in training. Yes, yes, now it was all clear.

Shutters rattled, and light was beyond them. Yes, he remembered now: Titan had been defeated. Titan had hurt Roxanne. Megamind had been willing to die for her, but he hadn’t had to. No, _Metro Man_ had come to his aid. Together they’d defeated Titan, leaving him the lumpen oaf, Hal Stewart.

Yes, light was pouring in now and Megamind felt his lungs work with new purpose. He coughed, ignoring the pain that ripped through his chest when he took a deep breath. Then he wheezed out his first words as he returned to the world of the living: 

“I did it,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Then, he corrected himself: “We won.”

Somewhere, someone sobbed. Hands took his, and he squinted as light burned his eyes. Squeezing them shut, he recoiled back against the pillow. Someone -- Minion, he realized a moment later -- said something about the blinds, and soon the light was dimmed. He eased his eyes open and things began to take shape as his vision returned. 

There was a cold steel hand against his left. That was Minion; he could make out the fish in his dome now. God, had he gone back to that body? Of course. No one was around to repair the other. 

His right hand was in a cast from fingertips to elbow, but he could feel the warmth of soft skin against his bicep. That was Roxanne; she had not only survived, but she had waited for him. Now the pain in his chest had little to do with knitting ribs and more to do with the fierce joy that she was alive. Oh, she’d seen better days, but her eyes were bright and shiny... oh, and wet. They were wet. She was crying. He’d never seen her cry, not in all his days of using her as a pawn between himself and his nemesis. Megamind had never seen Roxanne Ritchi cry.

“Why are you crying?” he said, and he tasted plastic. Why did his mouth taste like plastic? “We won. We finally won.”

“You did.” And that was a much deeper voice. “Couldn’t have done it without you, little buddy.”

Even Metro Man was there! Megamind’s brows furrowed as he tried to process it all. Roxanne was giving Metro Man a dirty look, and Minion was blubbering in his dome. It wasn’t even clear what the fish was saying through the sobs. 

“It’s alright,” Megamind said. Why was he reassuring _them?_ Wasn’t he the one who had just woken up from terrible injury? “I’m alright. We won. Why are you all so sad?”

“Because you nearly _died,_ ” Minion said, voice ragged with emotion. Megamind had never heard him so distraught; the fish swirled in his dome and shook his jaw in frustration for a moment, before he calmed himself. “But you’re going to be okay. The doctors said you’re going to be okay. That you’d wake up! And you have!”

Megamind’s hand curled in Minion’s more tightly; it didn’t matter to either of them that the fish couldn’t really feel the grip, he knew that his metal fingers were in Megamind’s and that was all that mattered. Looking up at the gathered throng, Megamind realized that doctors were starting to enter behind them. 

“Don’t excite him too much, he needs calm, to rest and heal,” they said. 

Then, somehow despite the smiles, their next words were ominous: “We need to speak to the patient alone.”

Megamind looked at them - so neat and tidy in their white coats. He looked at Roxanne with her tears and Metro Man, still wearing Megamind’s blood like a badge on his chest. He hadn’t even changed his costume. Megamind knew he couldn’t have been unconscious long, then. They’d waited for him. They’d been here for him. They’d worried about him. But he couldn’t overcome years and years of self-preservation in a day.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to the doctors now,” he said. 

Roxanne flinched, but Metro Man may as well have been carved from marble. The big man put a hand to her shoulder, and nudged her. Megamind had to keep one brow from lifting as she shook Metro Man’s hand off, and both went out the door to the room, shutting it behind them. That was odd. Everything about this was odd.

The truth of the matter, it was Roxanne he wanted out of the room. Metro Man had super hearing and would violate Megamind’s privacy as he saw fit, and always had. Stepping out with her was a gesture, really, but it was a gesture that made Megamind feel marginally more secure while naked, covered in tubes and blankets, in hospital bed. Roxanne would be wounded -- was wounded -- by his need for privacy, but he’d blow up that bridge when he came to it if he had to.

Once they were alone with the small army of physicians, Minion settled onto his furry, false rear and tried not to loom. THere was no point in being scary now, the doctors were here to help. 

They both gave their attention to the physicians as injuries were detailed, procedures explained, and his prognosis given. Flail chest did not come without consequence. Neither did the busted up ankle -- which adrenaline-fueled limping about had done nothing to help. He wouldn’t lose the use of his hand, but that was mostly because he wasn’t human. Anyone else would be lucky to have half the range of motion he would retain.

With gentle, sober voices, they explained to him what his life would become, from this point on. How to manage pain. What he could expect his life to be like, if he lived like a normal person, how he could improve his life. How his care could be managed.

 _To being normal,_ he had once toasted. Less than ten minutes later, he’d been wearing his drink. He found these men no more palatable than his champagne shower had been. 

“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said, cutting them short as they went on with suggestions for care and rehabilitation. “Minion, see the nice men out. We need a moment alone, if you don’t mind? Family, you know, we’ve got to discuss the options.”

Minion lumbered to his feet, quick to obey. As he advanced on the doctors like a wall of furry, fake monstrosity, Megamind smiled to himself and made himself comfortable, already starting to plot anew. 

 

***

Metro Man didn’t pace. He didn’t wring his hands and worry. There was no point; he could hear everything being said in the whole building. He knew that. Megamind knew that.

Which meant this was about Roxanne.

He looked at her. She sat, arms folded over her chest and her head dipped. Her brow furrowed in thought. She didn’t like this one bit. She didn’t have to, though. She just had to respect that Megamind was keeping her out of something.

Which begged the question: when had Megamind started letting her _in_ on anything in the first place? 

“You know, I don’t know how you two, ah, came to be at my doorstep the other day,” Metro Man said, keeping his voice low as he pulled up a seat beside her. She shot him a look as he settled in the awkward chair. He rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. 

“It was quite the surprise. You in your pajamas, him in a tattered costume,” Metro Man continued. There’d been an intimacy there, between them. The unspoken things, the habits that a couple get into when they’ve been together. “How long were you two...?”

“It wasn’t him,” she finally said. “It was his -- his alter ego. Stolen identity. _Bernard._ Not that it’s any of your business. Thankfully he blew his cover before it got too serious.”

 _Liar,_ he didn’t say. It was already serious. Maybe not physically, but she was invested. Invested in Megamind. Invested in this fake identity.

“So you found out, then you... dumped him?” he arched a brow. 

“What else would I do?” 

“Don’t know. But you dump him, he goes off to punch this Titan guy in the face, gets soundly defeated, he...”

“He came looking for help. Realized it was too big for him alone,” Roxanne said quietly. 

“And you came to my place because...?”

“Because we thought you were dead and I enjoy grave-robbing,” Roxanne drawled, rolling her eyes. “Why do you think we were there? To look for clues, for weaknesses... for anything that might stop _Ti_ \-- Hal. Stop _Hal._ ”

Metro Man nodded quietly, not looking at her just yet. Instead he rested his chin on his fists, while he was certain they were alone.

“And now you just want to know he’s alright,” he said.

“Of course I do. He put his life on the line for-- for the city, for everyone.”

 _For you._ He was so glad he had mastered the art of saying nothing when he desperately wanted to say something. Metro Man knew the truth, even if Roxanne was refusing to admit to it: Megamind hadn’t done all this for the city. The city could go rot; Metro Man had tired of it, and Megamind had loved it as much as its people had loved him. No. Megamind hadn’t done this for the city. He’d done it for the woman who loved the city, who loved its parks and knew its hot spots, where it buried its secrets and where it stretched to heaven. No. Megamind had only fallen in love with the city at the same time he’d fallen in love with Roxanne Ritchi. Or, more appropriately, when she had fallen in love with _him._ She was Metro City to him. She was its face and its voice. Only a fool could miss the way he looked at her now. 

Then there was the way she looked at him - like she saw right through him; past a big head and blue skin and wild eyes. She was in love. She’d been betrayed and then he’d pulled off the most incredible post-breakup apology ever: he’d put his life on the line for a city that had never shown him an ounce of kindness, because he wanted _her_ to be safe.

So this is what jealousy was like. Metro Man had never realized just how bitter it was on the tongue, to swallow it down as he looked her.

“Yeah, he did.”

“You never had to do that,” she said, though for once she didn’t sound mad at him. “I never had to sit and _worry_. You were never going to get hurt. You were never going to die. Christ, Wayne, what was he _thinking_?”

 _Good guys get the girl._ Metro Man kept the thought to himself and watched Roxanne scrub at her face with her knuckles. She was trying to erase tear tracks while avoiding her stitches, and not accomplishing either very well. But the use of his name -- his given name, not the name of the costumed man -- meant that her rage at him had broken. She was referring to him as a person again, instead of his persona. This was a start.

“For once in his life, he wanted to do the right thing,” he replied, still finding the lies came easily. “People find their inspiration from strange places.”

“Like that line you fed him?” Roxanne said, voice low. “‘Find your calling’?”

Metro Man took a breath, held it for a span of seconds, and exhaled slowly. In with the good, out with the bad. His parents had taught him that stress was nothing that a few deep breaths and some positive thinking couldn’t fix. 

“This isn’t the place for that conversation,” Metro Man said, knowing Roxanne wouldn’t give it up so easily. For now, he could delay her. “But I will have it with you. At the right time and the right place.”

Roxanne looked at him and nodded quietly. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by the door to Megamind’s room opening as the doctors came out. Roxanne was on her feet instantly, but one shook his head.

“He’s discussing his options with his, ah, caregiver,” the man explained. “If you’ll grant him some privacy, please?”

“We can do that,” Metro Man spoke for her. “There’s still rebuilding to be done, rubble to clear. Roxanne, do you want a lift?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll wait.”

 _Fools in love._ Again, he tried not be jealous. Then he left them all behind. 

***

They had all of five minutes alone before someone knocked at the door. It was enough time to get Megamind comfortable, grab the pad of paper and pen, and position the wheeled tray over his lap.

Megamind’s spidery scrawl was hard to read; language was his one major deficiency and his penmanship was atrocious to match. But Minion had spent years deciphering it, and the list that Megamind gave him was just legible enough, even left handed. 

“Let Miss Ritchi in,” Megamind said. “We can confer on the rest of our plans once you’ve brought me those things.” 

Ever faithful, Minion did as he was told. Roxanne Ritchi entered the room quietly, and reached out to put a hand on Minion’s mechanical arm in a friendly gesture. He’d always liked her; no matter what, she saw him as a person, and he knew that was hard for some folks. Roxanne had always managed it. 

Then she looked at Megamind and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over,” Megamind replied, though he was smiling. He reached up, stroked his chin. “Strangely violated, too. Couldn’t they have left my chin alone?”

“It’ll grow back,” she assured him.

“Better than ever,” Minion added. 

Megamind gave them a bemused smile, humoring them in their attempts to cheer him. Minion watched him settle in for a performance, struggling for banter and stage face while morphine slowed him down. It was subtle, that shift, and he couldn’t quite crank it up to a manic eleven like he normally did. But he had visibly gone from the fairly depressed ‘two’ he’d been earlier, to a much brighter ‘six’ or ‘seven’ - for Roxanne’s sake. 

That was good, Minion decided. That was good, and Megamind would handle everything. It hadn’t taken him long to come up with something just while listening to the doctors, and Minion was already excited to let him get back to work that didn’t put him in the line of fire. 

Roxanne headed for Megamind’s bedside, getting closer, until she was right up against the edge of it, her hands on its lifted railing. 

“Your color is already better, just for waking up,” she said. “And your strip will grow back.”

Megamind looked at her, and she looked back at him. In that moment, Minion realized that their lives as a pair of misfits with no human contact was over forever. Even as strained as he was, as battered and bruised, Megamind looked at Roxanne Ritchi with adoration all over his narrow face. Minion wasn’t a third wheel, or invisible, but he was fairly certain that there were conversations that needed to happen without him there. 

Some part of him wanted to stay, though. Wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. That everything would be okay. But in those few seconds while their gazes held, Minion realized that the world had shrunk to just the two of them. 

Okay, so maybe he was a little invisible at the moment.

“Sir, shall I go run our errand?”

“Err? Yes, what?” Megamind blinked back to reality. Minion was sure wherever he’d been mentally some rock ballad had been playing and the edges of his vision were turning fuzzy and warm. 

“Our errand, sir.”

“Oh, yes! Yes please, Minion.” Megamind smiled for him, now, but Minion knew the difference between a look of gratitude and the lovesick dupe he’d seen a few seconds before.

“Remember to stay in bed, limit your movement, and no strenuous activity,” Minion said as he tucked the paper he’d had into a storage compartment in his suit.

“Do you think that he’s going to escape from the hospital?” Roxanne asked with a laugh.

Minion smiled, and said, as he slipped out the door, “Oh, you know him; he’s always got something up his sleeves.”

“I’m very lacking in sleeves at the moment,” Megamind groused, and then added to Roxanne, “Don’t encourage him to dawdle. Minion, those things are very important! Don’t waste a moment!” 

Minion grinned to himself, hands and feet clanking as he headed out the door. Megamind hadn’t even been awake an hour and he was already dishing out instructions. That was great! Things were looking up! They were getting back to normal. Megamind had a plan; it wasn’t a villainous one, certainly, but it was still better than no plan at all. A Megamind who didn’t plot was a Megamind who was defeated, who was as good as dead.

Minion’s robotic step was almost jaunty as he left the hospital. He couldn’t wait to see how this panned out. Now he just had to do his part. 

 

***

Roxanne cast a glance after Minion as he left, then looked back to Megamind. He was fussing with his covers, pulling them up high over his scarred chest, but it was hard to manage one handed. 

“Let me,” she said, and he went still as she tugged his covers up higher. “Are you cold?”

“No,” said Megamind, and glanced down. “I just... don’t like being so... _bare._ ”

Roxanne nodded once. A man used to being clad from head to toe in black leather, leaving nothing below his adam’s apple exposed, was probably not comfortable stripped of all his protective paraphernalia. All the same, she carefully reached over him, and helped him tuck the blanket higher. He didn’t fuss after that, but simply watched her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Roxanne put on her bravest smile and told him, “I’m alright.”

“No side-effects from the DE-Gun?”

“No, Megamind,” she said, and let her hands rest on the rail again. She was trying not to smirk as she allowed herself to tease him, just a little: “No side effects. I’m on drugs just a fraction less powerful than the ones they’ve been feeding you, some antibiotics, but I assure you -- I’m no longer demoralized.” She felt her humor give way to something more serious. “I-- should be thanking you for that, shouldn’t I? You took what he would have given to me.”

Megamind’s face fell, and his eyes dropped, tracking some pattern in the weave of his blankets. “It was my fault. I couldn’t just let him beat you to death. I’m the one who caused all the trouble, not you. Hero or villain, you have to take what you earn. Even if it is a beating.”

 _Or a dumping?_ Roxanne felt her smile slip, and Megamind’s did not return. He was as somber as when she’d crushed him in the rain, leaving him to his own devices. It’d been three days since then: two he’d lost to unconsciousness, and one of them he’d spent fighting Titan. She wondered if that was enough to process - well, _anything,_ honestly. Probably not. She’d have to take it slow.

“How about we start with the gratitude you’ve earned, then?” she said. Her fingers flexed on the rail again, but she kept them from moving to him. “Because nobody’s ever honestly put their life on the line for my sake. Thank you-- for saving me.”

The time it took for that to sink in was an eternity. It was like the sun was rising in slow motion over his face, as his brows furrowed, then lifted. Megamind turned to look at her, so very slowly, that so-serious expression getting pulled and shifted at the corners as a slow smile appeared. He didn’t quite know what to do with gratitude, did he? He didn’t know what do with _anything positive,_ she realized. This was going to be a rough transition for him.

“Well,” he began. “Uhm. You’re wel _coom_?”

“Welcome,” she corrected him gently. “It’s ‘welcome’. But I’m sure you’ll get used to it in time. Hopefully you’ll get the opportunity to say it a lot as time goes by.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see if this heroism thing becomes a habit,” he replied as his smile went a little sharper. 

“Are you-- after all that, you’re-- going to go _heroic_?”

“I’m considering all options at this time, Miss Ritchi,” he said, green eyes brightening as he spoke. “I suppose we’ll have to see if they try and take me back home in leg irons after I leave the hospital.”

Roxanne bit her lip to silence a question, eyes cutting to the side as she considered how to ask about what the doctors had said.

“Do you expect to be out soon?”

“Very soon,” Megamind confirmed. “I heal relatively quickly. It’s a talent, I suppose. Being durable, and all that.”

“Well, give yourself time. I’m sure we can work with the warden on those sentences, after what you just pulled.” Megamind’s expression lost its light, and Roxanne realized she had misspoken. “I mean, if you want us to. I can’t imagine you’d want to--”

“Rot in prison the rest of my life?” he asked, one brow lifting. “Miss Ritchi, your-- newfound concern is--” Megamind _stopped,_ at a loss for words, banter failing him before her. He groped for language, and watching him fail at it was almost disturbing. 

“-- _Heartening,_ ” he finally said, turning away from her as he tried to get back on track. “But I assure you, at this point, Minion and I will weather each challenge -- including the struggle for my right to self-determine -- as it presents itself. I will be honest, however: I have no intention of returning home once I leave the hospital.”

Hearing him call the prison _home_ made her heart clench. It just seemed so wrong. He’d done so many bad things, but -- in the light of what she’d learned, what she’d seen... she was hard pressed to say that it was the right place for him. 

“Maybe we can do something for you,” she said. “Wa-- Metro Man still has pull, even with this ‘back from the dead’ stunt.” There was always a way. Roxanne Ritchi always got her story; she could apply that same determination to keeping him from returning prison, couldn’t she?

Megamind’s attention was suddenly back on her. His lip curled, though the sneer only lingered for a second. Then it smoothed, and he replied, “I should like to do something for myself, if you don’t mind. While I’m grateful for his assistance...” he struggled again with words; all of this seemed so foreign to him. Gratitude of any type - his own or from others - seemed hard to fathom, “there are things I want to do for myself. Be my own boss, clean up my own messes, yadda yadda.”

 _He’s not nearly as grateful as he’s said,_ Roxanne realized. There might even be _resentment._ It was a feeling Roxanne knew well; getting saved week after week got trying, to say the least. Megamind was on the receiving end of it for the first time, and now his pride was bruised. Metro Man could pass all the accolades to Megamind and it probably still wouldn’t be enough: their hero-villain team-up hadn’t exactly been as hoped, had it? 

“Of course,” she told him. “That’s more than reasonable. I just-- I want to see you--” _grow? learn? change?_ He looked at her, brows inching up his forehead as it became her turn to struggle with words. “-- _happy._ ”

There was a moment of silence, a most pregnant pause as he just looked at her for a long moment. She felt her cheeks heat under such intense scrutiny. Megamind shifted, reaching up with his good arm -- covered in tape, with the intravenous needle still lodged in a vein, keeping him relatively pain free, hydrated, and flooded with a cocktail of drugs to keep infection at bay. 

He hesitated, as Metro Man had in her kitchen only an hour earlier. This time, however, Roxanne didn’t pull away. His fingers were oddly cool as they traced the cut on her cheekbone. His thumb alighted at the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you, Miss Ritchi,” he said, his voice very small and for once, sounding completely sincere. “But being happy-- really, genuinely _happy_ \-- has been a much more-- recent development, shall we say. I suppose I’ll have to figure that out as I go along, too.”

“I think,” she said, laying a hand over his and catching his palm against her cheek, “seeing as I have dated your secret identity for the last three, four months-- that you can call me Roxanne now.”

“I didn’t want to presume,” he said, smile tugging his lips up again. “Roxanne.”

She leaned into his touch, savoring the cool palm despite the tenderness of her skin. Her eyes closed for a moment when the heat of tears threatened again. She couldn’t find it in herself to be angry with him anymore. She could understand why he’d lied, even if it had still horrified and enraged her. His feelings had been real-- as real as they could be, with him fumbling through the pretense of several lies and plots. But it didn’t mean that she wasn’t still hurt.

“Listen,” she said. “I know you’ve got a lot to think about. I’m still-- upset. About things. But when you’re on your feet, I want-- to ask you some questions.”

“Is this a request for an interview?” he asked, brow arching. 

“No,” she said with a laugh. “No. This is -- just me. Wanting some answers. Right now-- right now’s a crappy time. For all of us. But later, if I ask you -- about what’s happened between us, and what-- what’s going on with us?”

“Last I knew we’d ceased to be an ‘us’,” he said, again struggling for the right words. “I am, after all, a convicted criminal, a liar, and a supervillain.”

“Ex-supervillain,” she said, though she couldn’t be sure if it was the right term yet. 

“The contents of that book still haven’t _changed,_ ” Megamind said, a line appearing between his brows. “But I’m working on it,” he added and his smile remained in place. He was, at least, committed to not being evil anymore. It was a start. 

“How about we just start with being Roxanne and Megamind, and we can figure out where those two _people_ are going to go, together or apart,” Roxanne said. Her throat got tight, but she fought for the words she knew she had to say. “Because I-- I don’t want to _cry_ anymore because I’ve cried more over the last three days than I have in the last ten years. I want to know you’re okay, that you’ll be alright, then I want to yell at you because _what were you thinking_ , but I don’t think that’s the right decision _either_.”

“... I cannot say I’m opposed to any of those things, Miss Ritchi! Err, Roxanne,” he said, punctuating it with a weak laugh. “Though I’d rather not be yelled at today, if that’s alright. Everybody needs to yell sometimes, but if it’s all the same to you, can we raincheck the fight over what truths I did or did not tell?”

It was the best she could hope for; if she was honest with herself-- and she tried to be-- that he would try, after everything that happened, to hear her out, well... that was more than most would do after what she’d said. She knew that she’d been well within her rights to dump him, but in the heat of the moment, maybe she’d been just a little bit cruel. 

Titan had tied her to a tower and televised her pain. Megamind had taken his dumping like a man, at least, and accepted her decision as it was. He’d come to her for help, but not to make her take him back. She hoped that was out of respect. There was really only one way to find out, and that would take time.

“I should let you rest,” she said. “Recover. Did they--” she stumbled over the question, but there was no denying the fact that she wanted to know what they’d told him, what they told him to expect about his recovery.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me!” Megamind said, waving his free hand dismissively. “I’ll be out of the hospital before you know it. But if -- you don’t mind, the drugs are making me terribly groggy and I need to have a fresh mind when Minion gets back... and you could probably use the rest yourself. I mean, not to be -- ah, what’s the word? _Bloont_?”

“Blunt,” she corrected quietly.

“Blunt,” he repeated. “You look like you need to sleep for a week.”

“Probably do,” she admitted. “Phone’s been ringing off the hook, though.”

“Let it go to voicemail,” he suggested.

Roxanne smiled. Megamind was trying to look out for her? That was quite the novel swap. But she nodded, and released his hand. His touch didn’t linger. He drew back, and settled again on his pillows. 

“I’ll be by tomorrow,” she told him. He only smiled and nodded. She left him like that: buoyed and strangely hopeful after the encounter. 

Heading home under her own power-- a cab called and no Metro Man in sight-- Roxanne saw to a lunch, and then slept a good portion of her day away. Afterwards, she got up and made a light supper, parking herself in front of the television to see what the rest of the world was talking about.

She should have been surprised when the evening news team covered Megamind’s escape from the hospital, but honestly, she wasn’t. She laughed, despite the knot of worry that tightened in her guts. He was well enough to escape, and that was something, but... she wondered at the wisdom of it. If she’d learned anything over the last few months, it was simply that Megamind didn’t plan ahead very well.

Only time would tell, she supposed, what would heal and how well. Flesh, blood, and bone mended, but spirits and hearts needed seeing to as well.

She popped her next round of painkillers. She’d attack this new madness in the morning. For now, she returned to her bed to let sleep aid in her own healing.


End file.
